


all my devotion

by decompository



Series: feel this burning, love of mine [2]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Hades & Persephone Inspired, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:47:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decompository/pseuds/decompository
Summary: They have done this countless times in countless eras; when Akihito gathered wheat for his village, when he was a soldier shipped off to the far end of the earth, when he was a prince adorned in heavy jewellery or pasted posters on the walls of 19th century England. Akihito remembers them all, can still freshly taste them, and the comfort of Asami’s strong arms finally around him makes his tears run hot and heavy.





	all my devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Reincarnation AU with a dash of Persephone/Hades. 
> 
> Song: All the Years - Beach House

Akihito wakes in an unfamiliar room, modern and sparsely decorated by sharp cornered furniture. What surprises him first is the bleach white of the walls, far from the yellowing of his own, that momentarily blinds him. Then, he notices the soft bed and softer pillows, and the large drape of the blankets that sits comfortably around his hips.

Akihito places a hand on his forehead and groans softly into the quiet air. His head is still spinning uncontrollably and his mouth is parched and dry like sandpaper.

The door clicks open and he darts his eyes at the man who enters.

He is remarkably tall and uniquely handsome, all rough edges and a manly composure that befits the modernity of his surroundings. Even with one, hazy glance, Akihito knows he is rich; his composure says it all. The man is holding a glass of water and instinctively, Akihito licks his lips.

The stranger’s weight on the bed sinks the space next to Akihito and if he were coherent and energised, he would’ve told the man to move away. He is grinning, almost endearingly, and Akihito isn’t sure if he should feel uncomfortable or attracted to him.

“Brought you some water.” He says and oh, his voice suits him perfectly.

Akihito drags his heavy eyes up the man’s face, outlining the shape of his high cheekbones and thickness of his lashes and the perfect set of teeth peeking from his lips. He wants to drink it as much as the water in the glass.

Abruptly, the man helps him sit up and Akihito downs the water in one, long go. The stranger’s eyes never leaves him. After he is sated, Akihito gives the cup back sheepishly and smiles shyly, still licking at his lips.  

“Thank you,” he says and stares as the strange man grins back. His handsomeness doesn’t even seem human. Perhaps Akihito is still dreaming.

“I’m sorry, but where am I?” He asks and immediately notices the slight dimming of the stranger’s eyes. He hesitates, the first sign of humanness from the man that grounds him back on Earth, and then flashes Akihito another quick smile.

“Right where you should be.” He replies and without warning he pulls Akihito in.

The moment their lips touch something loud and thunderous cracks inside Akihito’s chest and what feels like a thousand Suns pours into his veins. His brain short circuits, motions cease and thoughts diminish as hundreds of years worth of memories bombard him. The stranger brings him closer still, until Akihito is in his lap and his strong, strong arms wind around him.

Akihito struggles to push him away but the memories overcome his ability to process his current reality at all. Instead, a stream of endless scenarios flash right before his eyes as if he were stuck in a never ending cinema:

A large, black castle cutting into the sky; spirits wailing and adrift and casting feathery touches on his skin as they grab for him; the warmth of the sun on his cheek and back; the sound of languages he’s never heard of spoken by his own voice; whispered promises; desperate touches and the brightest of them all; the face of one man.

Akihito opens his eyes and everything clicks.

Silence resumes.

Asami stares right into his eyes, glimmering of hope.

“My love,” Akihito breathes and it feels like coming home, the first breath of air after suffocation, the first bite of fruit after starvation.

A powerful relief overwhelms Asami and he kisses Akihito again, deeply and sensually, tasting the man for the first time in decades. He touches his love, brings their bodies closer until the only thing separating their skins is the fabric of his shirt. Despite centuries of repetitive separation and reunion, Asami will never tire of this feeling, this happiness that makes his dull existence ever more bright.

“Welcome back.” He whispers and kisses Akihito’s ear and cheek, temples and eyelids. “I have missed you endlessly.”

Akihito takes Asami’s face into his hands and begins to cry, laughing and touching their foreheads together. How could he ever forget?

“How long did you wait this time?” He asks.

“Only 60 years.” Asami replies and they laugh together, hysterical and high on emotion.

None of them are surprised when Asami’s clothes are flung to the foot of the bed, when the soft blanket is thrown carelessly aside. The bed dips under both of their weights, their bodies a tangle of limbs and kisses that breathes life back into Akihito’s very soul. When Asami pushes into him he feels complete, gasping softly into the corner of Asami’s mouth as they both rock and curl around each other.

Time is no longer measurable or relevant; the spin of the Earth and the galaxy becomes insignificant in the moment as they reshare and relearn the nuances of each other’s bodies, reigniting the simmering fire that bounds them together.

They have done this countless times in countless eras; when Akihito gathered wheat for his village, when he was a soldier shipped off to the far end of the earth, when he was a prince adorned in heavy jewellery or pasted posters on the walls of 19th century England. Akihito remembers them all, can still freshly taste them, and the comfort of Asami’s strong arms finally around him makes his tears run hot and heavy.

"You found me," Akihito exclaims and peers up at Asami's open face, alight with raw adoration and a fierce protectiveness.

"Always." Asami responds and kisses him, undeniably devoted. 

It is tough loving the King of the Underworld, but it is even tougher not to.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
